Sauron's Mistake
by Me Llamo Berry
Summary: Sauron decides that he needed to make sure to keep the other races from banning together to defeat him. So, what does he do? ...well, the results are not what he was expecting.
1. Prologue

It was April 12, 3018 (or 1418 by Shire reckoning) and despite the gathering darkness in Middle-Earth, all was quiet. This was only because the cause of the spreading evil had stopped making movements and was quietly reviewing and editing his plans. After all, Sauron was most definitely not an idiot as many believe.

While serving under Morgoth, Sauron had explored power more thoroughly than anyone, evil or good. He could see far more than anyone could ever dream of. He could see all the possible outcomes and in all the ones where he lost (he wasn't so arrogant so as to presume he would automatically win, unlike other evil-doers), the people, being they elves, dwarves, men, or hobbits, all banded against him. He had to prevent that from happening.

As he discarded idea after idea, something from his distant past niggled at his mind. He chose to ignore it until... He remembered. His great eye widened and he would have cackled if his form allowed it.

On his quest for knowledge and power, he discovered other worlds. Not parallel worlds, but worlds that were completely different... Worlds that spanned galaxies or a planet. Even a world that concentrated on those with 'magic' as it was called there.

Sauron ignored many of these worlds and focused on the world that contained the type of people that would be the most likely to split the people of Middle-Earth apart. He gauged his power and judged that he could pull 7 people from that world and still be able to direct his servants decently.

He allowed himself a mental chuckle before pulling seven people (plus an unintended dog) from that world violently and without any thought as to where they were from. He didn't notice that they knew each other. Another thing the all powerful being was unaware of was the fact that he had misjudged his power and used too much (though, to be fair, it would have been just the right amount if he had pulled the 7 carefully instead of violently). As a result, his power shaped and changed each of the seven. They weren't unrecognizable, but they now fit in with anyone from Middle-Earth. This was a mistake, something he did not intend to happen.

Unfortunately (depending on how you look at it), Sauron was as stupid as people thought: he never checked to see if his plan was working, nor did he actually look specifically, enjoying instead the big picture. And we all know that the little things tend to hide within the big picture. For better or for worse though is your opinion.

.

Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was not a happy man. After failing to fall asleep all night, the man had just finished making his coffee when something pulled him from his kitchen and into the middle of the plains. How he got there, he didn't know. But he did know that it caused a lot of pain, more pain than he had experienced (and we know he went through a lot).

He ran his hand over his head in frustration and froze. He had never, ever had the amount of hair he was currently feeling. He pulled a strand to his eyes, and glared at it, as it happened to be a combination of black and grey and long enough to see without pulling it out of his head.

Shaking his head and ignoring his hair whipping at his face, Gibbs stood up and felt undeniably awkward. Feeling for his gun, he did not find it. What he found was a sword in a scabbard. Groaning with irritation, he looked down. He was wearing clothes from long in the past.

"If this is a joke of DiNozzo's, I'll kill him," he muttered to himself, but his gut told him that it was the result of something else. With a sigh, he cast his view on the landscape, trying to find something recognizable.

At first, he saw nothing. Gibbs cursed under his breath and turned slowly on the spot, noticing the mountains to his right. He spotted the sun and figured that the mountains were to the north. He turned more to his right and noticed a huge white thing (that was kind of similar to a building if he was to be honest) nestled near the end of the mountain chain.

He squinted at it and then cursed loudly. "DiNozzo! If you were here right now, I'd headslap you." He'd recognize that structure anywhere. It was out of some movie the agent had made him watch. King of the Jewelry or something. He growled.

Yes, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was a very pissed off man (going without his coffee only made it worse).

Being rational, Gibbs did not waste any thoughts trying to convince himself that it was not happening. After debating with his inner demons for a few minutes, he decided that his best bet would be to go to that white thing. Whatever it was.

But before he went... He gripped the sword in his hand and pulled it out. It was unfamiliar in his hand but he did not let that deter him. For the next few minutes, he forced himself through some maneuvers to acquaint himself with his new weapon. After all, he had to be able to defend himself in this place.

"DiNozzo, you better have a good explanation for this," Gibbs muttered to the air before, without a backward glance, walking towards the white thing that was miles away while flicking his hair out of his face repeatedly.

.

Doctor Donald Mallard or Ducky for short was rather confused. He'd just finished drinking his tea when he was-there was no other word for it-ripped away and deposited in the middle of a huge hall with a rather hard floor. That combined with the pain that came with his dimension jumping made him very bemused.

His glasses were missing and his hair was most definitely longer than normal. He'd just finished mentally checking himself for injuries when he noticed that he was not alone.

"Oh dear," he stated while becoming rather pale. Of course, the sight of at least ten spears pointed at you would be rather unnerving.

Ducky stood up and brushed himself off cautiously and slowly while noticing the differences in attire, attitude, and hairstyle. "May I inquire as to where I am?" he asked carefully, trying to be as polite as possible. Who knew what would happen if he said just one thing that was too rude?

Everyone eyed him suspiciously and a few moved even closer to the poor man. Finally, a voice carried over the group and said: "This is Meduseld, the Golden Hall of Rohan."

As if it were a signal, all the men retracted their spears, but that did not stop them from eying the stranger clad in their clothes with suspicion. They continued to grip their weapons, ready to attack at any sign of aggression.

Ducky, however, did not notice. His mind had recognized the names and they were from a story he remembered from his younger years. With the spears still near him, he swallowed, realizing that he could not accuse them of being delusional, as they most certainly did not have any of the tell tale signs. With a sigh, he finally looked up and noticed the path to the throne that had opened up.

Feeling rather nervous, he walked up to the man sitting in it and managed an awkward bow/kneel combination, fully aware of the audience he had gained. "I'm sorry. My name is Ducky and I'm not from around here, you see. I'm quite as surprised as you are to be in this grand hall." He prayed that he had not made a faux pas.

The man looked down at him wearily and leaned forward to examine the stranger. "I am Théoden King. I wo-" Théoden was cut off by shouting.

"Éomer has been injured! Tell the king!" echoed in the hall. Immediately, the King got up and ran out of the hall, forgetting the stranger in his haste to his nephew's side. Ducky quietly followed him through the chaos.

"Where is the healer?" Théoden bellowed.

Some female answered, "He disappeared earlier today, Uncle."

Ducky stepped forward. "Perhaps I can be of some assistance? I know a little about healing."

Several hours later, he had quite possibly saved the King's nephew from dying despite his lack of knowledge of natural healing. It seemed that basic hygiene was not usually followed and that was mostly what the wound needed. He would need to learn the various herbs and plants later.

"Healer Ducky, I thank you for saving my cousin," a young man by the name of Théodred said suddenly, startling the poor doctor... err, healer. "It would have been a blow to all of us if he died. My father raised us together. He is like a brother to me and like a son to my father. Speaking of whom, he has told me that you will be staying on as our Healer in the absence of our previous one. I wish you the best of luck dealing with the chaos. Éowyn will teach you Rohirric after dinner each night," he added as an afterthought.

Ducky gaped after the man had left. "Oh dear." Life had suddenly gotten thrown upside down. The doctor was not one to shy from a challenge and it seemed that he just got one. At least he was no longer viewed with suspicion.

.

Ziva David was not a happy hiker... or was it camper? Anyway, she was not used to things taking her unawares. And something did. In the early morning hours of the day, she was grabbed and tossed onto the soft forest floor amid blinding pain.

Grumbling in Hebrew irritably, Ziva stood up and noticed that she seemed a bit more balanced and that her hearing was sharper. She gazed around the forest and froze. Things were sharper, clearer than they should be. Her hair fell forward and she brushed it behind her ear.

In wonder (and a little fear), she traced the point of her ear. What had happened to give her pointed ears so suddenly and without her knowledge? She caught a glimpse of her sleeve. Frowning, she looked down and groaned. Whoever put her in that dress was going to be killed. Painfully.

She reached for one of her knives and found it, but it had changed. It was now a beautiful piece of craftsmanship that was a hundred times more deadly. All of her knives had changed into similar states. They all had a glow about them, as if some power had made them.

_Welcome__to__the__Golden__Wood__, __Ziva__David__._ Ziva gasped and stumbled backwards. The voice had just appeared in her head, just like that! She looked around suspiciously, but there was no one there.

An unfamiliar sounding man with an accent that was similar to British spoke from her left. "My lady, Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel would like to speak with you. If you would please follow me," he added with a flourish before leading her down a path that would be difficult for her if she was still human. But she was not, and was able to keep up gracefully.

As they entered Caras Galadhorn, she gasped silently in wonder at the beauty. In no time, she was climbing one of the ancient trees to meet with the leaders of the wonderful forest.

Galadriel quickly explained Middle-Earth to Ziva, having felt her when she arrived. She had immediately realized that Ziva was not from Middle-Earth and felt that she needed to be looked after. Ziva did not take kindly to that.

"May I go find where I'll be staying then?" she asked coldly.

"First, you must eat dinner, then we need to find you a suitable name. It will not go over well with most that an elf does not have an elven name. We and possibly a few others, will teach you how to speak both Sindarin and Quenyan."

With a sigh, Ziva nodded and soon found herself enjoying a dinner with them. It seemed that they were far more easy-going without formalities to follow and her needing to be taken care of was simply a misunderstanding. In no time, they had chosen a name: Beleguial. It meant "mighty twilight." Ziva accepted it, as it fit with how Tony called her a ninja. She ignored the twinge in her heart as she wondered if he realized that she was gone yet.

.

Jimmy Palmer was sleeping. He was sleeping so deeply that he didn't notice when he landed on a hard, rocky surface. Nor did he notice when a bunch of dwarves found him and decided to take him in, as he appeared to be a young dwarf with no home or family. Imagine his surprise when he woke up and discovered his full beard. Those dwarves had their work cut out for them.

.

Abby, despite her preference for black, was no emo person. She was the most cheerful person on the planet, and not even the pain of changing dimensions changed her mood. In no time, she had discovered every single change made to her person.

But she was no longer human. She was an elf! Abby was super excited to meet other elves, but she missed her black clothes and her twin pig tails.

She bounded down the near-by path, only to run over some poor blond elf. She quickly picked herself up and helped the other up, babbling the whole time. "I'm so sorry! I didn't see you and I don't even know where I am but I thought I was getting somewhere as there was a path and I didn't even stop to think! I'm so sorr-"

The elf held up his hand, looking a little amused. "It's alright. My name is Legolas and you are in Mirkwood. Would you mind explaining where you came from? You appeared out of nowhere."

Abby blinked. "Oh, my name is Abby and I'm from this place called Earth... wait, did you say Mirkwood?" As he answered, she told herself that she would not change the trilogy, she would NOT. She had read too many fanfictions on changing the past and she did not know what would happen if she changed even the littlest bit.

He nodded. "If I hadn't seen you appear, I wouldn't have believed you, but we need to come up with a story so that others don't think you're crazy for claiming to be from some place else. And you will need a new name... How about Laurëlhach? It means 'golden leaping flame.'"

Abby grinned and gave him one of her famous hugs. And so started a rather bizarre friendship between a forensic scientist and a prince.

.

Timothy McGee was very close to panicky when, while he was walking Jethro, a pain appeared in all parts of his body unlike anything he felt and rendered him paralyzed as he suddenly disappeared from the street.

After a few moments, he became aware of Jethro whining and nudging him. With a sigh of relief that the pain was gone, he opened his eyes and gasped. He was in the middle of what looked to be a palace. He absentmindedly stroked Jethro's head as he pushed himself up with his other arm.

He felt much more balanced that before. With a frown, he reached to scratch his neck only to discover hair. Lots of hair, down to the middle of his back. He gulped and when some fell in front of his face he pushed it back only to discover that his ears were now pointed. _Great__. __Now__Tony__really__will__have__a__reason__to__call__me__Elf__Lord__. _he grumbled to himself as he looked down at Jethro.

He blinked and did a double take. The dog now looked more like a wolf, but at least he was relatively unchanged, if slightly uncomfortable. His collar and leash were nowhere in sight.

Feeling uncomfortable without his gun, Tim stepped forward nervously. His wandering hand, automatically reaching for his gun, found a sword instead. He gulped.

"Halt!" two identical commanding voices rang out. Tim froze.

"Erm... Hello?" he called back, wondering how the hell his voice had become so... lilting.

Two identical elves with fierce stern looks materialized (or so it seemed) in front of him. "How did you get here? What is your business with Imladris?"

Jethro started growling. Tim rested his hand on the dog's-er- wolf's head. Luckily his pet took the hint.

"I have no clue how I got here, and as far as I know I have no business with... Imladris, did you say?" As he finished saying that, he felt slightly horrified. How in the world had he ended up in Middle-Earth? And if he was in Imladris... then... that would mean... that he was standing in front of Elrohir and Elladan, the twin sons of Elrond. He gulped, and grew more nervous as he noticed them staring at him.

"Come, Adar will know what to do," the one on the left stated as they turned and started racing through the woods. Tim cursed mentally and took off after them, marveling at how easy it was to keep up and avoid tripping.

They guided him through the elaborate building and to their father's office. The two elves walked into the room and quietly talked to him before ushering Tim in and leaving him fidgeting nervously.

Jethro growled, causing Tim to look down and sigh.

"Jethro..." he murmured, resting his hand on the wolf's head.

Elrond asked his name gently and then started something that was a bit of an interrogation, but after having Gibbs as his boss, wasn't near as nerve-wracking as it could be.

After briefly telling Elrond that no, he didn't know how to speak any Elvish, and yes, he was from a different world, the elf-lord sat in silence, contemplating the young elf in front of him.

"Well, Tim, I'll have my sons train you up. We'll just say that you lost your parents at a young age while traveling and you've been on you're own since. You don't remember any elvish. But we do have to give you an elvish name."

Tim finally sat down, idly patting his wolf's head. "What do you suggest?" he asked.

Elrond smiled for the first time since he had arrived. "Draugheru, meaning wolf lord."

Ti-I mean, Draugheru groaned quietly, glancing down at Jethro. Tony was definitely never going to let him live this down.

.

Speaking of Tony... well... he was probably having the worst day of them all. All he was doing was relaxing on his couch, watching movies (since it was his day off, nevermind he was up early). Then, without warning everything twisted and he experienced pain beyond imaging as colors contorted around him.

As suddenly as it started, it stopped. He landed on soft grass and groaned.

"What the hell just happened?" he mumbled into the dirt.

He pulled his hands underneath him and pushed himself up. He frowned. The ground was a lot closer than he remembered.

He started brushing off his arms when he froze. He was wearing old timey clothes and... were his feet furry?

Tony sat down and checked. Yes, they were. There was hair growing all over them and no shoes, socks or sandals in sight. He groaned loudly before realizing he seemed to have more hair than he remembered. He ruffled his hair. It was curly.

"Oh shit, I'm a hobbit."

…

**So ****there ****you ****have ****it****, ****the ****beginning ****of ****a story I****'****ve ****been ****toying ****with ****for ****ages****. ****Now****, ****I ****realize ****some ****parts ****are ****shorter ****than ****others**** (****particularly ****Jimmy****'****s****) ****but ****that ****doesn****'****t ****mean ****they ****won****'****t ****be ****a ****big ****part ****of ****the ****story****. ****Trust ****me****. ****I ****just ****don****'****t ****know ****how ****to ****write ****Jimmy ****that ****well****. ****Longest ****prologue ****ever****. ****Thanks ****for ****reading****.**


	2. Chapter 1

_"Elvish"_

_Thoughts_

Chapter 1

Draugheru (formerly Timothy McGee) swung his feet off of his bed and stretched. He grinned as he strode over to the wardrobe and pulled out something to wear. Being an elf made sleeping a whole lot easier. No nightmares, and he could dream what he wanted. The only weird part was that elves sleep with their eyes open without blinking.

The elf glanced back around the room. The only sign that the former geek lived there was the amount of books and writing there was. _Too __bad __I __don__'__t __own __The __Lord __of __the __Rings __back __in __D__.__C_, he thought ruefully, _I __could __easily __publish __all __of __these __short __stories__. __Maybe __I __could __ask __if __I __ever __get __back__?_

Strangely, though it had been five months and ten days, he now thought of Imladris as home. It was fairly chaotic at times, though. On any given day, he could be sent out on a mission or the recipient of some pranks. Luckily, though, throughout the course of his stay, Estel, the foster son of Lord Elrond, helped him out. He could now pull off pranks on the surprisingly immature twins. Though, to be fair, they were only immature when there wasn't something that needed maturity, like when on a mission or when guests arrived.

Draugheru finished braiding his hair and tossed his hair over his shoulder.

"Come on, Guardian," he called as he opened the door to his room.

The wolf formerly named Jethro jumped off of the bed and padded to his master. It had not taken long before Draugheru had realized that Jethro was an odd name for someone to name a wolf when they had not been in contact with society for years. He had toyed with Storm for a while, but Guardian was the name that had stuck.

Draugheru strode through the corridors of the palace confidently, relieved that Elladan and Elrohir were on a mission and therefore unable to prank him. He had spent only one month learning to speak and read elvish, training with weapons, and learning general history and customs before they started sending him on missions. Now he was much more experienced and able to hold his own in a sparring match, though he was more suited to study in the library or his room than go out and fight, but being an elf had made it easier for him to learn to fight.

He sat down and started enjoying his breakfast. He tossed some food occasionally down for Guardian. It did not take long before he was interrupted.

"Draugheru!"

The elf looked up with a raised eyebrow. "_Yes_, Estel?"

"_How __are __you __this __fine __and __lovely __day__?"_ The man asked with a wide grin and an attempt at looking innocent.

Draugheru rolled his eyes. "_What __do __you __want__?_"

Estel sat down with a sigh. "_That __obvious__?_"

"_Only __a __little__._ _Besides__,"_ the elf jabbed the last of his food with a fork, "_I __know __you__._"

"_Alright__,_ Mithrandir _wants __me __to __meet __up __with __some __hobbits __in __Bree __in __case __he __can't __in __about __two __weeks__. __Could __you __come __with_?"

The elf chuckled. "_Can__'__t __handle __a __few __hobbits __by __yourself__?"_

"_Well__, __yes __I __can__, __but __the __Nine __will __be __targeting __them__. __I__'__d __feel __a __lot __more __comfortable __if __you __were __there __with _Guardian."

"_Fine__, __when __will __we __leave__?"_

"_Today__."_

"ESTEL!" Draugheru groaned, before standing up and stretching. "_Let __me __go __collect __my __stuff__."_

As he packed a bag for travel, Draugheru idly thought that he should be used to Estel asking for him to do something at the last minute. Oh well, at least he had something to do; he had been getting pretty bored.

….

It was raining. And it was cold. Tony checked on Frodo before glancing at the other three hobbits. If they didn't make it to Bree soon, all of them would end up with colds from this weather. And Merry and Pippin were no fun when they were sick.

The hobbit breathed a sigh of relief when the gates came into view. "Not much further," he encouraged.

Frodo looked up, and a relieved expression crossed his face. It did not take long before they were walking into the Prancing Pony.

"We're here to meet Gandalf. Can you tell us where he is?"

"Nope, haven't seen him. But we have some nice hobbit rooms for ya if you will be staying."

"Enough room for five?" Tony interjected.

"Why of course, little masters, now why don't you go enjoy a drink."

Merry, Pippin, and Tony did just that. Merry and Tony discovered pints and Pippin decided to go get one. Frodo and Sam were just sipping theirs while Merry and Tony drank theirs as fast as possible.

Tony was being observant, however, and he noticed two men sitting in a corner, and casually watching them. He gulped slightly and drank some more, praying to God (Eru here, right?) that they were not going to attack.

Frodo must have been curious too, since he asked the bartender person about that. "Oh, them, that's Strider and his fairly new companion, Storm. And at their feet, is Wolf. I'd watch out for them, very shady."

The three hobbits that were paying attention nodded, though one of them was quite confused. He remembered about Strider of course, who wouldn't? But Storm and Wolf... he didn't know about at all and it was disconcerting compared to everything else that had happened. It was the first thing that didn't follow the books or movies, as far as he knew.

Tony looked around and mentally cursed when he noticed that Merry and Pippin were once again at the bar, now drawing attention to themselves with their antics. In an effort to keep them from spilling the beans, he joined in, trying to keep everything away from Frodo Baggins and similar subjects.

He sighed when Merry started talking about his cousin Frodo. "Merry," he hissed, trying not to gain anymore attention, but then Frodo jumped onto a table and started singing some random song, that sounded vaguely like an old nursery rhyme near the end.

Tony saw it coming before Frodo did. He dove forward, but too late, the hobbit had fallen off the table and disappeared. Tony cursed again and looked around, noticing that one of the men had also disappeared.

He grinned slightly, knowing that Strider was likely gearing up for a lecture or being mysterious. Then he realized. "Ah crap, now those hobbits are my responsibility."

He rounded them up and somehow convinced them to find Frodo by following Strider while he double-checked the bar.

Really, Tony just wanted to find out about Storm and Wolf. He sauntered over, but his usual charm looked ridiculous on a hobbit with curly hair.

Storm barely even glanced at him. "You should go with your friends."

"But they're probably with your friend by now," Tony retorted fiercely.

Storm turned his head away and began shaking.

"Wait, are you LAUGHING?"

The mysterious man who so did not belong in this story (in Tony's mind) turned back with a completely straight face just in time to stop Wolf from tackling the hobbit. He grabbed the wolf around the next and pulled him back.

"You really shouldn't have raised your voice to me, Shorty. Wolf's rather protective of me."

"Don't call me shorty!" Tony protested.

Storm merely chuckled before standing up and stretching. "I believe Strider's rounded up the rest of your friends and explained the situation a little more clearly by now."

"Wait, what? How did you know that I already..." Tony trailed off as he followed the man into the street to the other inn. Wolf sniffed Tony for a moment and then licked his hand.

Storm lead the way to the room, but stood outside the door for a moment, watching Tony as he tried to make sense of it all and tried to keep Wolf from licking him too much. "And here I was worried about you having a valid reason to call me Elf-Lord."

"What? McGee?" Tony asked, but Storm was already opening the door. Wolf trotted in first and he had to gently prod the hobbit into the room.

"Having fun Strider?" Storm asked brightly.

The Ranger turned and gave him a dirty look. "One of them still won't believe me, and why did you leave me here to deal with four hobbits by myself?"

Strom grinned. "As revenge for your last minute decision to get me to come with? Besides, I had to make sure Tony wasn't making trouble too."

He strode across the room and sat down, facing the five hobbits now grouped together. He flipped down his hood. "Is this proof that neither of us mean any harm?"

All the hobbits gasped in awe. "Another elf..." Sam mumbled, eyes wide. Frodo didn't looked too shocked while Merry and Pippin were having some type of argument.

Tony just stared, mouthing the words Elf-lord to himself.

"Oh, we haven't introduced ourselves properly yet, have we?" Storm went on, grinning at Strider, who squirmed. "That's Aragorn, and yes he is a Ranger, but rangers aren't all that bad. My name is Draugheru and I'm from Imladris, or Rivendell as most people around here call it."


	3. Chapter 2

**Storm or Draugheru is Tim McGee, he will only be referred to as McGee or Tim unless one of the others from Earth is addressing him, and even then, they're likely to use the name he goes by here. Storm is his name when he is at Bree, and the name the hobbits know him as, as Strider is to Aragorn. Everyone else will call him Draugheru. Wolf or Guardian are Jethro who was a dog, but is now a wolf as a reminder.**

* * *

"Estel, _get some sleep,_" Draugheru told the man.

"_But I need to keep watch," _Estel argued back. Three of the hobbits were sleeping, the other two were not.

Draugheru shook his head. "_You hardly slept on the way here, we were too busy traveling. And while you have gotten sleep since we arrived, you will likely not sleep much on the way back to _Imladris_ either. So you need to get sleep while you can. I will keep watch if it concerns you that much."_

"_Fine."_

At that moment, the slumbering hobbits woke up suddenly. A pulse of dark intentions had woken them. A screech sounded through the night, causing all to wince, as the elf covered his ears.

As the sound passed, they all relaxed, though the man and elf were still slightly tense.

"What was that?" Pippin asked.

"That would be the Ringwraiths discovering your decoys," at their confused faces he added, "you've been calling them Black Riders."

Sam started speaking again. "Why are they after the Ring exactly? And I know you trust Longshanks here, but I don't like the feel of him," he added, as he had been addressing Storm.

Storm sighed.

"Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne,

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie," he spoke solemnly. "The nine were corrupted by their rings, and became enslaved by Sauron. He is their master and they are to bring the ring to him, so he can regain his full strength."

Four of the Hobbits shivered in terror, the fifth sighed and looked down, he was already aware of this.

Suddenly the door burst open. Storm and Strider leapt up, drawing their swords. Storm flipped his hood over his head and tensed before shaking his head. Strider sighed and relaxed as a man cowered under the threat of decapitation. Storm kept his hood up, but sheathed his sword, scowling at the interruptions.

"Sorry for bursting in so late, but I just remembered something, that is, Gandalf left me a letter to give to a certain hobbit, with cherry red cheeks and..." The barman rambled.

"Is it addressed to Frodo then?" Draugheru interrupted, not in the mood to deal with his rambling.

"Well, yes, Storm, sir. He gave it to me back in June, and told me to have it sent to Hobbiton as soon as possible but I couldn't find anyone to take it and it slipped my mind."

"You didn't think of going yourself?" Strider interjected coldly. Wolf lifted his head and growled a little, sensing the mood of his master and friend.

The barman squeaked. "Here's the letter, sirs, I best be going now." He handed over the letter and beat a hasty retreat. Storm couldn't help but laugh lightly.

Strider passed the letter to Frodo. "Gandalf did not inform me that he had written a letter, then again it has been since about June since anyone had heard from him."

The Ringbearer opened the letter, scanned it. He looked up briefly. "All that is gold does not glitter?"

Strider quickly finished the poem, all 7 of the other lines. It was enough for Frodo who began to read the letter aloud.

"Dear Frodo,

Bad news has reached me here. I must go off at once. You had better leave Bag End soon, and get out of the Shire before the end of July at latest. I will return as soon as I can; and I will follow you, if I find that you are gone. Leave a message for me here, if you pass through Bree. You can trust the landlord (Butterbur). You may meet a friend of mine on the Road: a Man, lean, dark, tall, by some called Strider. He knows our business and will help you. Make for Rivendell. There I hope we may meet again. If I do not come, Elrond will advise you.

Yours in haste

GANDALF.

PS. Do NOT use It again, not for any reason whatever! Do not travel by night!

PPS. Make sure that it is the real Strider. There are many strange men on the roads. His true name is Aragorn.

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.

PPPS. I hope Butterbur sends this promptly. A worthy man, but his memory is like a lumber-room: thing wanted always buried. If he forgets, I shall roast him.

Fare Well!"

"Does that ease your fears, Samwise?" Storm asked gently.

The hobbit huffed, but was interrupted by Merry and Pippin.

"That old barman does deserve a roasting, it's been months."

"Yeah, we might not have met those Black Riders."

"And we'd be safe in Rivendell by now," Tony added his opinion.

Frodo shook his head fondly at the three before addressing Strider. "So your true name is Aragorn?"

"Aye it is, though I have gathered many names throughout my years of traveling."

Sam huffed again.

Frodo gave Strider an apologetic look before turning to Sam. "Wouldn't you think a servant of the enemy would look fair and feel foul? Strider looks foul and feels fair."

"Oh fine Mr. Frodo, I'll trust him."

Storm chuckled under his breath. "As it's still completely dark out, I wager it would be a good idea for everyone to try to get some more sleep, it's going to be a long few days."

Frodo and Sam agreed, but the other three hobbits groaned theatrically like little kids. Strorm gave them a 'I-am-not-amused' look that rarely worked on anyone he had come to know. All the three did was sit back on the bed.

Storm leant down and whispered a few words of elvish into Wolf's ear. The wolf yipped and jumped onto the bed, effectively trapping the three hobbits on the huge bed and forcing them to lay down and be comfortable. There were three yelps of shock and then groans.

"Now you have no choice, sleep," the elf ordered before turning his gaze to Strider.

"_I think you learned some tricks from Elladan and Elrohir," _the man grinned.

"_Of course I did, it was the only way to survive around those two."_

"_Don't I know it," _Estel admitted ruefully.

"_Do I have to pull a trick to get you to sleep to?"_ Draugheru threatened.

"_No, no, I'll be good, see?" _Estel responded, laying down on the floor with his blanket, and closing his eyes.

Draugheru snickered softly. "_Good night, Estel."_ There was no response; the man had already fallen asleep.

(Next morning)

Storm came back from talking with Butterbur with a disgruntled look. "All the horses were released last night. I'm going to go see if I can find one to buy." He glanced at the hobbits as if to decide which one to bring with. "Tony, why don't you come along?"

"If you want me to."

"I cannot leave five hobbits with Strider, particularly when three of them are immature."

Tony sighed, and stood up. He adjusted his clothes slightly and started walking out the door. "Let's go then."

Storm put a hand on his shoulder to stop the hobbit and turned towards the room. _"_Estel,_ I'm leaving _Guardian_ with you."_

"_Very well_," the man responded absent-mindedly from where he was checking his weapons.  
Storm chuckled, and then allowed Tony to leave the room. He shut the door and turned to the hobbit. Said hobbit twisted and looked up, huffing.

"McGee, I can't believe you're here too! And why did you get to be an elf? Do you know how difficult it is to be clueless and naïve? It suits you better, plus you're the one that's going to get to fight later on. And you're a wimp, you wouldn't last ten minutes in a fight like the one they're going to face in-" Storm covered the hobbits mouth and ignored the smaller being licking his hand.

"Someone's coming," he hissed. "We can speak of this later."

Butterbur stopped and stared at them.

Storm plastered an amused smile on his face. "I wish Strider had warned me that Hobbits were so talkative, I had no idea how to shut him up."

Butterbur laughed heartily, before becoming as solemn as an air-headed bartender could get. "We have found only one horse left in Bree, and it belongs to Bill Ferny. It will cost you some if you really want to buy it."

Storm sighed. "I was afraid of that. Very well, lead on." He removed his hand from Tony's mouth finally and placed his hand on the hobbit's shoulder instead.

(about an hour later)

Sam was feeding the pony they had bought, who he named Bill. The poor pony was all skin and bones, and none of the party had the heart to put too much luggage on the pony's back.

Unfortunately, since they had bought quite a few supplies while they were there, Sam, Merry, and Pippin were having slight issues with the weight of their packs. Tony and Frodo might have as well, but they weren't complaining or showing discomfort like their companions.

Storm looked up from where he was checking on Wolf. He chuckled at the discomfort for a moment before looking back at Wolf. He grinned slightly.

Not long later, they were ready to set out of Bree, with a pony bearing a few bags, and a wolf bearing a few others. And the hobbits with reduced packs.

"Wolf won't be carrying bags the whole journey, just for the first few days," Storm warned the hobbits. "By then you should be able to handle the added weight." He ignored Tony, who crossed his arms and was obviously trying not to say anything, though none of the other hobbits noticed.

Strider arrived after speaking with Butterbur for the final time. "Are we ready to leave then?" he asked Storm.

"Yes, we are," Storm answered.

The man looked over the hobbits, noticing (not for the first time) the odd actions of Tony, and smiling as Sam ate one apple, while feeding another to the pony. His gaze stopped on the wolf.

"Do I want to know?" he asked Storm.

"The hobbits had too much weight they weren't used to. Wolf is fine with it." Storm shrugged.

The man, elf (once again disguised as a man), five hobbits, wolf, and pony made an odd sort of parade as they walked down the street to the exit. Most of Bree were watching, peeking out of windows, standing in the streets, pretending not to watch.

Sam was the last hobbit, leading the pony, and Storm was behind him. "Now who's that swarthy looking man there?" he asked quietly, referring to a man who looked far dirtier and meaner than the rest of the people.

Storm glanced at the man. "That's the man who we bought Bill from."

The hobbit scowled and threw his apple at the man, hitting him square on the nose. The man yelped and ducked out of sight, cursing loudly.

"Nice aim, Samwise. That could prove useful on the journey," Storm commented.

"But it was a waste of a good apple," Sam grumbled as he tried to catch up to Pippin, who was in front of him.

Storm just laughed loudly, startling a few of the people around them. And then they were gone from Bree, and off into the wilderness.

And they were not having fun. Take five hobbits who's only protection on their feet is the hair on top of their feet, and them not wearing shoes, and by the end of the day of going at a brisk pace without break for food...

Everyone was relieved to stop for the night. The hobbits so they could tend to the blisters that were forming on the soles of their feet. They may have done a lot of walking before, but that was more leisure walking, not the walking they were now doing. The man and elf however... they had headaches forming from the complaints from four of five hobbits.

Frodo didn't complain, he was the oldest at 50 and the most mature; Sam was 12 years younger, Merry 2 years younger than Sam, and Pippin was the youngest at 28; and Storm wasn't sure about Tony, he had claimed two years ago to be 35, but he always suspected Tony to be slightly older; either way, he was one of the least immature there.

"I'm going hunting," Storm announced as he pulled the bags and straps off of Wolf.

"You should take one of the hobbits with you... preferably Merry, Pippin, or Tony," Strider told him. "And I better get to hunt tomorrow."

The elf laughed. "Of course you will; we'll take turns." He turned to the hobbits and thought for a moment. "I'll take Tony again."

It took a few minutes for the hobbits to realize what he said, as they were too busy staring in awe at the glow he was emitting. They had been too tired and sore to notice that as it grew dark, the elf started glowing. But now that they had stopped, it had caught their attention quickly.

He waited patiently as Tony stood up, groaning theatrically. He picked up his bow and arrows, and set off with a hobbit in tow. He sent a look at Wolf who whined, but stayed put at the look from his 'master'.

After the two had gotten a good distance from camp, Tim looked at Tony. "You can speak as long as you speak quietly... or better yet, whisper."

"Why?" Tony asked defiantly, though he did say it quietly.

"Otherwise you'll scare away whatever I want to catch," Storm stated softly, as he peered through the trees, stepping lightly.

"Wait, McGoo, you're going to catch something?" Tony asked incredulously.

"I did learn something since April," Storm pointed out, still scanning the trees. He stopped suddenly, and put out his hand, indicating that Tony should stop as well. He held up his bow, and grabbed an arrow from the quiver. He stood there frozen for a while.

Tony started fidgeting, he couldn't see anything, and didn't know why Tim was just standing there.

Suddenly, the twang of the bow sang out, startling Tony enough that he fell over. Storm chuckled and pulled up the hobbit. "Come see what I caught."

It was a deer. Tony just stared. "What, how?"

"I was stuck as an elf in Imladris, I had to pick up some skills," Storm pointed out drily.

"But you're Probie! You don't do stuff like this," Tony protested. "You're just the tech geek who falls for pranks too easily."

At that, Storm snorted. "It's been 4 and a half months approximately, and there's no technology in Middle Earth. I had to adapt."

"But that's all you're good for!" Tony protested, "You're not like me or Ziva or like Kate was in the field, you're not meant for it."

Storm sighed. "That's because I was never actually given much of a chance. You even took away my chance at getting field experience in Iraq. If I had more experience in the field I could be like you or Kate, but no one could be like Ziva. But I'm only the computer geek, only good for typing on a computer and finding information and helping Abby."

The elf gently pulled his arrow out of the deer before lifting it up over his shoulder. "But if we get back, that won't be the case any longer," he vowed, "I've learned how to fight efficiently with knives and hand to hand. Maybe Vance will even allow me to train Jethro to be the first K-9 cop in NCIS."

Tony gaped at him. "B-but... I should be the elf, not you. Elves and men got all the action in the movies, the hobbits didn't."

Tim sighed. "But in the books, the hobbits had the hardest journeys and lessons to learn. I read the books, I know a lot of details you don't. I'm not planning on changing anything, but I'm going with the flow, Strider asked me to come with him to Bree, so I did. Don't change anything consciously, some things are better left the way they were."

Tony scoffed. "But Boromir could survive!"

Storm shook his head. "And then Denethor won't be upset when he thinks Faramir is dead and won't kill himself, so he will be a threat to Aragorn and won't allow Aragorn to be king. Think about it."

Tony scoffed again. "You're an idiot, Elflord. I still think I should be the elf, not you."

Storm couldn't help but grin; in a way, that is a compliment to elves. "If you say so. Let's go before they worry too much."

Without waiting for a response, he started nimbly picking his way through the forest, stopping every so often to make sure that Tony was keeping up.

The hobbit admired how he was so graceful. And then he scowled. _That should be me!_ He thought._ Not the Probie. He'll be useless, I won't be. He doesn't know the first thing about being in a real fight, he gets knocked down within the first minute. I could easily beat him._ It never crossed the hobbit's mind that while that might have been true when they were both men, Storm, formerly Timothy McGee, now had the advantage of height, and grace over the stocky hobbit for Tony now had.


End file.
